Not-So-Mousey Molly
by socially-awkward-butterfly
Summary: Molliarty, set just after the Great Game. Molly has just discovered who her lovely Jim really is. The cunning consultant, the spider. Molly, push-over in the morgue and too kind for her own good, the mouse. But this devious criminal may be enough to break Molly from her shell, to unbottle the wits and cleverness that've always hid behind a sweet mask of lies. Sort of dark!Molly.
1. A New Molly

Fear. When your adrenaline spikes, and your limbs shake, and you can't keep your hands steady. Maybe it's that big test that your entire grade depends on that you did not realize was today. Maybe it's when your crush is looking at you and you're having a bad hair day.

For Molly? For Molly, it was a lot of things. It was public speaking and spiders and new people and large crowds and attention being on her, but it most certainly was never her boyfriend. Not until now it wasn't.

And the pathetic thing was- he wasn't even there. That's right. Little Miss Molly, prim, proper, and polite, was terrified of her boyfriend whom was not even present at the moment. But most people probably wouldn't blame her. Not with whom her boyfriend was just revealed to be.

Not when she'd just discovered her boyfriend was Moriarty, the Moriarty, and- they'd kissed. She'd kissed England's, and quite possibly the world's, most dangerous man.

Great.

But now, what was she supposed to do? That one officer who was always ever so polite when he came to the morgue- Greg, she thought- had called twenty minutes before her shift ended to deliver the unfortunate news. And Molly had to leave sometime. But she had no money for a cab, and who was she to call at three AM for a ride? It looked like she'd be walking the next forty-five minutes, constantly glancing over her shoulder in case Jim Brook- No. Moriarty. He was Moriarty, not the awkward boyfriend, he was a consulting murderer, and he did not love her. He loved killing, and expensive suits, going by Sherlock's ramblings, but he most certainly did not love Molly. All those sweet little gestures he'd shown her had turned out to be meaningless after all.

She finished closing the lab up with a sigh. For a few weeks, just one or two, she'd felt important. Not a nothing like Sherlock made her feel, not push-over Molly in the morgue who would cover shifts on holidays because she never had plans, but Molly, someone's girlfriend, someone that another person spent time thinking about.

He probably does still think of me, she thought bitterly as she walked down the dark hallway. She was the last one there, as usual. Thinks of how big of a fool I am and how he's going to murder me. Wonder who'll do my autopsy. She shook her head and pushed the door open. Instantly, biting wind and stinging rain hit her face. The drops were heavy and each was a slap to the face, scolding her for actually believing that someone could care for her like that.

By the time Molly had walked for ten minutes, her clothes were thoroughly soaked. Each step she took made a slosh slosh noise and she just wanted to be home. The rain stopped all at once, but when she looked up, it was still raining around her. She looked at the person who was shielding her from the weather. It was Jim, but not Molly's Jim. Not Jim from IT who was probably gay and wore tight shirts and was awkward and hunched over when he was near her so she wouldn't feel so short. No. This was Moriarty. But, strangely enough…

Molly wasn't afraid.

"Here to kill me," she asked conversationally. She then gestured vaguely toward the umbrella he was carrying, sacrificing his own expensive suit to try to keep Molly dry. "Quite kind of you to bring this. Raining awfully hard tonight."

"Well, as for killing you," he said. She liked this voice better. It didn't fumble for words and squeak and stutter. It was eloquent and smooth and the voice of a bad person who'd killed many people. Maybe she didn't like this voice all that much. "As for killing you, we'll see how the night goes," he finished, tilting his head as if actually debating Molly's life and death. "And I couldn't let my little mouse get hypothermia."

"First of all, I'd get a common cold at most. Second, either you're going to kill me or you're not." This was al the confidence and wits that Molly bottled up and hid behind a mask of stutters. She didn't know why it was coming out right now; possibly she knew her death was close and so decided to use her cleverness and sarcasm.

"Oh, kitty's got claws," he remarked, bumping her slightly. She smirked and bumped him back.

"Thanks for walking me home. Never know who's waiting out there. Psychopaths. Murderers. Oh, wait…" She looked up at him, her expression hard. He stopped walking and she did as well. Moriarty took the opportunity to push her against the brick wall behind her, which made her cut her back up a bit. For the first time since this meeting had begun, Molly was afraid.

"Molly, Molly, Molly, where did all this confidence come from, you mousy little girl?"

"Get off of me," she squeaked, as he was pressed quite tightly against her. Was that…lust in his eyes? Impossible. He stared her down for a second before backing away with a shrug. His expression was neutral, and whatever had been in his eyes was gone now. They were dead once again.

"You should speak up more often, sweetheart, people might not push you around as much."

"I'll take my advice from someone who isn't a murderer, thanks."

"Oh. You're still not over that?" She glanced sarcastically at her watch.

"Hm. Seeing as it's been sixty minutes since I found out that my ex-boyfriend is a crazed murderer, no, I'm not over it." They were at her apartment. She walked up without another word, but Jim called out to her just as she reached her door.

"Molls!" She turned at the familiar nickname that now sounded taunting. He smiled seductively and winked. "Doesn't have to be 'ex'." She rolled her eyes, flipped him off, and walked into her apartment, soaking wet and tired and thrilled and afraid and betrayed and- excited. Excited for what might come. And that made Molly sound completely out of her mind, but Molly didn't care anymore. No more 'Molly the Mouse'. She was a new Molly, the one only Jim the Psychopath and Toby the Cat had seen, and she planned on making the best of this new Molly.


	2. Pepper Spray

"Mooooollllllyyyyyy," a soft voice sang. She groaned and sank deeper into her mattress.

"Go 'way," she mumbled, still asleep.

"Mooooollllllyyyyyy," it sang at her again. "Time to waaaaake uuuuuuup."

"Go. 'Way."

"You'll be late for work, Molls."

"Jim, c'mon-" She stopped. This wasn't Jim from IT Jim, this was Moriarty, in her flat, _in her bedroom_ , waking her up-

 _He didn't even have a key!_

She sat up quickly and then sprayed him in the eyes with the pepper spray she always kept under her pillow, in case of midnight intruders or crazed psychopaths. He screamed and jumped up, tears streaming down his face.

"Holy shit! Jesus, I wasn't going to kill you, Molly!" He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, still unable to see clearly.

"You're in my bedroom. I didn't even give you a key! Get out before I call the police!"

"Jesus- I can't fucking see!"

"You deserve it. Door is directly behind you, visit again and I swear to God it'll be worse than this."

"I made you breakfast," he grumbled. "And Toby let me in."

"Toby bit you the last time you came here. Get the hell out!" She pointed toward the door and he stumbled in that general direction, but ended up hitting the wall due to his lack of sight.

"I still can't see where I'm going-"

"Out of here and then straight to hell, quite obvious."

"Ha ha. Very funny. But I am unfortunately stuck in this hideously decorated flat until my sight is regained, thanks to you, Molls."

"My name is Molly, and you're not stuck here. Goodbye." She climbed out of bed and shoved him out of her room. He regained his balance just in time to not go tumbling down the stairs. He was still rubbing his eyes furiously and he looked pretty pathetic, so Molly sighed and grabbed him by his elbow, leading him slowly down the stairs. She had a hard time not helping people, even now that she was the new Molly and even though this was Jim Moriarty.

"Sit down and shut up." She pushed him onto one of the kitchen chairs and got a rag, soaking it with cold water.

"I thought you wanted me to leave-"

"One more word and I swear to God I'll duct tape your mouth shut," she snapped. He gave a two-fingered mock salute as she turned around. She gently dabbed at his eyes with the rag, trying to get it out. His eyes were pretty red and he grimaced every time she touched his face. She threw the rag on her counter and got some saline drops, then tilted his head backward.

"Open your eyes," she commanded. He did, but he couldn't stop blinking. "Seriously, keep them open."

"I'm trying-"

"Shut. Up." He widened his eyes dramatically and she took the opportunity to put the drops in his eyes. The stinging sensation slowly faded.

"Thanks, Molly. You're a real sweetheart, kind enough to help me after you've pepper sprayed me. Why do you even have pepper spray?"

"In case someone tries to kill me in the middle of the night, or my crazy ex-boyfriend breaks into my flat and watches me sleep for God knows how long."

"Only a few minutes. I've got better things to do than watch you sleep."

"Good to know. You can leave, now."

"Not without what I came for." He walked over to her, hands in pockets, and her heart hammered loudly behind her sternum. He was going to finally kill her, she was sure of it-

His lips met hers and his hand cupped her cheek gently as he kissed her. She was too stunned to move, and by the time her senses finally screamed to move away, he'd already ended it. He winked at her before walking away, and it was only after she'd been standing in the same spot for at least five minutes that she realized the gum in her mouth wasn't hers.

It's a bit short. Please read and review! Even negative reviews are helpful, as long as you point out what you don't like about it.


	3. A Game

Molly walked into the lab, and then groaned internally when she saw Sherlock. The last thing she needed was to be deduced.

"You're late," he muttered. "By an hour."

"Yes, Sherlock, I am."

"Why?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you." He looked up from his microscope with a frown and Molly made her best effort to act casual. She apparently passed his test as he looked back down at his microscope without another word. She let out a breath of relief and then set her things up.

"You never chew gum," Sherlock remarked after a moment.

"Sorry?"

"You were chewing gum earlier-"

"I was not."

"You were," he insisted. "Your breath smells like mint-"

"I brushed my teeth."

"-And I did a study on the different smells of artificial mint. Mint gum, distinct. But you never chew gum. The smell is faint. It was spit out almost immediately. Why were you chewing gum, Molly?"

"It's none of your business," she snapped. "And I've got work to do in the morgue, so good day." She stormed out quickly, heart beating loudly. When she was out of sight and earshot, she leaned against the wall, breathing hard. That was too close- and Molly hadn't even kissed Jim back. It was just the fact she hadn't stopped him or called the police, so she didn't want anyone finding out.

She laughed at her paranoid thoughts and pushed her hair back. Jim had made her feel guilty for something she hadn't even done. No. She wouldn't allow him to manipulate her like this. She needed the upper hand somehow…

She pulled her phone from her pocket and found his number.

 _Up for some fun, Jimmy? -Molly_

 _Ooh, Molly, you naughty girl. I'm always up for fun. -JM_

 _Good. -Molly_

 _What were you thinking? -JM_

 _A game. -Molly_

 _Molls, I'm going to give you the chance right now to back out. I *always* win my games, love, and the opposing side can be left a bit… hurt. –JM_

 _And I never give up on anything, so this will be interesting. Don't you think? -Molly_

 _It'll be entertaining, at the least, if our goodbye this morning was a preview of what's to come. –JM_

 _Nothing so predictable. -Molly_

 _Then what's the name of the game? –JM_

 _Murder. -Molly_

I know, it's short. Sorry. Please read, review, and suggest anything you'd like to see incorporated into the story. I can't make any promises, but I'll try.


	4. Molly Hooper, The Pathetic Pathologist

Molly leaned against the brick wall. She shifted, uncomfortable with what was beneath her lab coat- The dress was tight and short and not something Molly would wear.

She didn't even own it.

It was her friend Gabby's. Gabby had been thrilled, assuming Molly had a date.

This was sort of a date.

Jim saw it as that, at least. He saw it as the two sharing a fun night with each other, and that's what a date is, after all.

Molly saw it as stopping him from killing anyone else. He'd be too busy playing this 'game' with her to kill anyone. For the moment, at the very least.

And if she happened to get killed with this game, well… That was part of the fun.

"Fancy seeing you here," his voice called. She knew he was taking his time with making his way over- She might not have known the real Jim for all that long, but all she had to do was think 'What would Sherlock do if he were here right now?' and it usually applied to Moriarty. Usually, it was be arrogant and act as though he had the upper hand, as well. The corner of her mouth twitched upward, dragging her heavily red lips halfway up. She didn't open her eyes, though, and it annoyed Jim that she looked completely relaxed.

"Do you like my little game so far?"

"Dunno. So far, all I'm seeing is Molly with suspiciously high heels and red lips and a lab coat. Work hours are over, love, you can take that off." She stopped leaning against the wall and gracefully, seductively, slowly dropped the lab coat and pulled the pin from her hair, all in one motion. Jim was stunned as he took in her appearance. He was literally frozen, except for his eyes. His eyes were everywhere, taking in the curve of her waist, the smooth skin of her shoulders, her straight brown hair sweeping across them, and then his eyes slid further down, and they froze, as well. He was taking in her legs, which were shown except for about three or four inches where the dress stopped. Basically, her dress was a tight, oversized shirt. Her lips twitched into a smirk and she waved.

"Yoo-hoo. My eyes are up here, thanks." He quickly cleared his throat and tried to relax, but he was seeing for the first time just how beautiful she was. Before she'd been mousy, quiet, shy, awkward Molly, but now… She just was the opposite, and that was a huge change for him. He wasn't so sure he'd be able to win this game, now.

"What's the game," he asked, trying to keep his voice from sounding too high-pitched. She noticed and smirked more a she walked closer to him. Even in four inch heels, she was shorter than him, but she still put her hands on his chest and her face close to his.

"Can't you guess, Mr. Consulting Criminal?" Her voice was breathy and he swallowed to restrain a shudder. What was wrong with him tonight? No one ever got to him, and definitely not the terrified little pathologist who got used by everyone.

"Murder," he guessed, repeating the words from her earlier text. He rested his hands on her hips lightly. He had to get control of the situation back. "Although, this doesn't look very much like a game of murder, Molls." Her smile turned genuine.

"These heels are murder on my feet." He didn't smile, though he desperately wanted to, just to keep the smile on hers for a little longer.

"You've disappointed me, Molly."

"Oh, Jim, honey, this is hardly over. The fun is in the chase-" She paused, letting him think about her words. "And the game hasn't even started yet."

"And you're still being a cryptic little shit."

"Think," she murmured, backing away from him so he could see all of her again. He refused to let his eyes linger anywhere but her face. It all clicked, suddenly.

"The fun is in the chase," he repeated gleefully, laughing slightly and shaking his head. But his smile is cruel now and his words are aimed to hurt her. "And what makes you think I want you?" She rolled her eyes.

"You're all just the same, Jim. All of you supposedly superior geniuses. You all think little Molly from the morgue is too kind to have a spine, too awkward to have a brain." Her voice turned harsh and it was obvious that Molly was hurt by this. "But I'm not an idiot. I've got a doctorate in biology. Bet you know that?"

"Oh, did I hurt poor little Molly Hooper's feelings?"

"And I've got a doctorate in psychology, too," she continued, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at Jim. "I saw it. There certain signs. Signs of love. Signs of lust. And even you aren't that good of an actor. You. Want. Me."

"No one ever gets to me, Molly, and if someone did, it wouldn't be the little shy pathologist-"

"Then why'd you show up," she interrupts. "You care. You just don't want to admit you're human." She picked the lab coat up from the ground and slid it on. Disappointment filled his eyes and her smirk only grew. "Now," she said in a voice smoother thank silk or honey. "You can either play the game or not. But I've got some stakes to add to it, I'd you want to make things fun."

"And what might those stakes be," he asked slowly.

"I win if you fall in love with me by the end of December." It was April; Molly had high hopes, Jim thought, or at least hopes too high for the poor girl. "And you win if you don't, by the end of December. And if I win, you've got to shut your business down." She took a few strides closer to him, face close to his. "And if you win, you get to kill me however you please."

"You'd really gamble your entire life on some game that you'll never win? Molls, that's just stupid."

"You _scared_? Is that your problem? Is big, bad James Moriarty afraid of Molly Hooper's little game?" He narrowed his eyes and set his jaw.

"Fine. End of December, this world will finally be rid of you." And with that, he was gone.

Read and review, please!


	5. Coffee

"You know, love, calling people every twenty minutes when they're at work is not a good way to make them fall in love with you," Jim said, his tone bored and annoyed as he walked into the labs casually.

"You wouldn't answer your calls," Molly replied with a shrug, fixated on the microscope. "So I had to keep making them."

"And now I'm here, so what did you want?"

"Oh, nothing," she chirped as she looked up at him. "I was just calling to say good morning. It's your fault that you showed up here instead of answering." His eye twitched slightly. He was missing an important meeting for this.

"You mean to say," he nearly growled, teeth gritted. "That you called me _… twenty two times_ to say good morning?"

"It's only the polite thing to do, Jim," she replied as she turned back to the microscope. "But I guess I won't be calling you anymore to say good morning." He could hear the smirk in her voice and was only getting angrier by the second. Maybe he should just take her scalpel right now and slit her pretty little throat…

But wouldn't that victory be so much sweeter at the end of December, when he got to torture her slowly first, mocking her for thinking that she could ever matter to anyone, let alone him? Oh, it would be _so_ much sweeter when he had sweet little Molly begging to have the consequences of the game undone, when he had her begging for him to please not kill her. And _that_ was the only reason that he didn't pick up the scalpel and murder her then and there.

"Well, then, I'll be off," he said nonchalantly, not revealing the anger he was hiding.

"I get off in five minutes. Would you like to go out for coffee?"

"Like I said, I'm missing an important meeting. You're going to have to try a bit harder than that, Molls."

"Oh, live a little! I'm sure your entire network won't suffer if you miss _one_ measly meeting."

" _You're_ telling _me_ to live a little? Molly, have you ever missed a day of work that wasn't because you were sick? I know you haven't, because you told me-"

"And you also know that my shifts are twelve hours long, I've only been here for seven, and I am willing to leave work five hours early just for the fun of it. _Would. You. Like. Coffee_?" There was something aggressive in her voice, something he couldn't quite place, but he thought it fit her well, much better than her previous goody-two-shoes attitude.

"You're paying," he growled as he marched out of the room like a petulant child. She blinked away her shock that that had actually worked and then jogged after Jim, abandoning her work as she tossed her lab coat on the floor behind her. She ended up passing him, turning around to jog backwards so she could see him.

"Oi, Moriarty," she called from across the street. "If I get there before you, you're paying!" She turned and ran and Jim sighed. No _way_ he was running after her and making a fool of himself, so it looked like he'd be paying.

Sorry it's so short :/

Please read, review, and continue to be your amazing self!

Also: I've started another work, titled ' _Broken Dolls_ ', and I'd really appreciate it if you checked it out. Here's the link: s/11616010/1/Broken-Dolls

You can expect the next update for this fic to be some time probably next week. See ya then!


	6. Don't Insult Me (Sort Of)

"So you really came all the way from Africa just because I kept calling you? You sound like a protective boyfriend," Molly teased as Jim grumbled yet again about what he was missing by having coffee with her. He glared at her.

"If you must know, I came all the way from Africa because you kept calling me and I was about ready to just murder you, Molly."

"Huh. Less romantic when you put it that way."

"Not romantic at all. I'm not interested in you, sweetheart, but you started this damned game and I'm going to finish it."

"Sure you are. Just depends on how it ends-"

"Me standing over your dead body, Molly Hooper, that's how it ends." He stood up, placing money on the table with his lips pursed. "If you'll excuse me, I have a meeting to attend through Skype, due to an incompetent pathologist-" She stood as well, slamming her hands on the table and scowling. Her voice was deep, dark, and threatening (which Jim found highly endearing. Molly Hooper was just full of surprises).

"You can say what you want about me. You can say I'm ugly, I'm fat, I'm the stupidest person you've ever met- I can deal with that. I've put up with Sherlock saying it for ages. But the one thing you cannot say is that I am not good at my job. I am the best damned pathologist in that idiotic hospital. I make the most precise measurements and cuts, Moriarty, and I could make good work of your face when you end up dead on my table. Do you understand me?" He reached across the table and gently caressed her cheek.

"Oh, I hear you, Molly Hooper. I hear you loud and clear." He kissed the cheek where his hand just was and left her standing at the table in a daze.

So I get two awards: the awards for 'World's Shortest Chapter' and 'World's Most Annoying Author'. I've got a bit of writer's block on this, so any ideas you want incorporated into this story, leave a review and I will try my hardest!


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